She's Talking to Angels
by lionesseshuntbetterinpacks
Summary: She was an athlete with an extremely bright future ahead. She only wanted to lose a few pounds, nothing major, nothing life altering. But once she started to lose weight, she couldn't stop. The feeling of control she had was addicting, the thinner the better,the thinner. She felt in control for once. What she didn't realize was she was slowly starting to starve herself to death...
1. Chapter 1

**I couldn't even think of a title for this new fanfic. But I am obsessed with the book, _If I Stay_, and in a way, Katniss struggles with life and death situations in the trilogy and in this fanfiction she does eventually too, so I thought this title might be something different. **

**But this is a fair warning, this fanfic will possibly become _VERY__ TRIGGERING_ in this chapter and especially in later chapters for people who have or are trying to recover from an eating disorder. I AM NOT PROMOTING EATING DISORDERS IN ANY WAY. If you have recovered from an eating disorder, I'm so proud of you and if you're struggling with an eating disorder, I'm still rooting for you to recover. If you have ever read the book '_Letting Ana Go_' by Anonymous, this will resemble some themes from it. I plan this fanfic to be long. I roughly have the first six chapters outlined and the first three written but not edited, so hopefully I can get another chapter out before school starts on Monday. ****  
**

** I don't own anything from The Hunger Games, all the rights go to the respected owners.**

**Prologue **

"Katniss please, you can't let me do this myself," Madge pleads, her blue eyes pleading for my agreement, searching for any kind of weakness in my eyes, which I refuse to show, "Do you know how hard it would be to eat such restricted calories without anyone to push me? I really need this role for dance, this recital could make or break my future Broadway career. You know how badly I want to dance on Broadway. And you could even lose a few pounds yourself. "

I sigh. Madge must be able to tell by my facial expressions that I am not fully convinced of this. Which I'm not, it's stupid. If you want to lose weight, why not just do it the proper, old fashioned way? Eat clean and exercise. That's how all the doctors recommend weight loss and it's more than likely the safest instead of the way Madge wants to do lose the weight quick.

"Katniss, please? Didn't you say your celebrity crush is Peeta Mellark?" She asks and I nod my head and take another spoonful of my soup, "Well he would only want to date someone who is really, really skinny. Like the Hollywood definition of skinny. It would be horrible for his public image to date someone who is fat. Not saying you're fat. But use that as your motivation, a chance to date the acting sensation Peeta Mellark if you lose weight and tone up. But a lot of celebrities do it to quickly drop weight quickly. Before she can think up of a another excuse to get me to diet with her, I stop her mid sentence, "Fine, I'll do it." I'm not doing it because I want to lose weight, I'm doing this diet because I am a good friend.

Madge's facial expression is confusion at first, she probably didn't think she would be able to convince me to do this and was preparing for a long speech on the pros of dieting with her. "Really?" Her face is now lit up with excitement. I nod my head. "Cool, we start the diet on Monday. And we can practically eat whatever we want as long as we stay under our calorie limit."

"And how much is our daily calorie limit?" I question her seriously.

Madge's facial expression goes blank, she probably thought this whole trip to Panera would be just to convince me to diet with her. "I'll have to text you that information. But it's not crazy low calories like you probably think." She comments.

Madge gets up to leave from our booth at Panera, she grabs her purple backpack and takes one last bite of her bagel before she leaves. "Oh, and you better enjoy that bread bowl because that has too many calories in it starting Monday," She leaves it at that.

As I watch her leave, I start to picture Madge nearly twenty pounds lighter or even ten pounds lighter. How? She is already as skinny as they come. With her beautiful sandy blonde hair and ocean blue eyes, she is every man's dream girl. Her boyfriend Gale must be very proud to have her, but I wonder if he'll still love her once she loses all the weight. Wouldn't her rib cages protrude if were that skinny? We learned about dramatic weight loss in girls in a psychology class we took last year in eighth grade. How it causes period loss, skin tone unevenness, moodiness, and hair loss. These symptoms don't seem worth the risk. I'm happy with my body.

* * *

When I arrive home, I don't announce my presence to their parents like a lot of teenagers would, instead of being greeted by my parents or even my younger sister, Prim, I hear my parents screaming and yelling at each other again from the living room across on the other side of the house. I'm not sure why they are arguing this time. But based on their last few arguments over the past few days, my best guess is that one of them ate or drank something with the other's name on it. I shake my head, their arguing is starting to become out of control. Their arguing is nonstop, I don't see why they just don't get the divorce already, the separation will make them happier in the future and even now. But whenever I bring up the subject of a divorce to my mother or father they both try to assure me that every married couple goes through a few rocky patches in their relationship. But most rocky paths don't last this long...

"How long have they been at this one?" I ask Prim when I walk into the kitchen. Prim is at the table trying to do her homework. Prim is three years younger than I am, she just turned 12. Her blonde hair and blue eyes and petite frame makes her a very beautiful and attractive girl, she takes just after our mom while I got all of my darker hair and grey eyes traits from my dad.

"I'm not sure," Prim says innocently, we make eye contact and I see how miserable she really looks, "I just got home a little while ago from Sarah's house so I wouldn't have to listen to them fight again. I just wished they would get the divorce already."

Prim and I don't agree on much, we hardly even get along at all most of the time, I guess it's because we are so different in too many ways, but the divorce is definitely something we both agree our parents should do. When one of us is alone with the other parent, they always complain about the other, making us stuck in the middle of everything. If we tell Mom what Dad just said about her, we're being loyal to Mom but betraying Dad and vise versa.

I would have much more sympathy for both Mom and Dad, but it is sort of their own faults they're in this situation. Mom and Dad were both stupid enough to have unprotected sex without even knowing the other. After a few drinks they had hooked up. Once they found out that Mom was pregnant, both of them rushed into marriage because they knew better than to have a baby out of wedlock. They never really got along, as early as I can remember, they would fight. Not everyday, but there would be fights. Whether it was over how tight money was or Dad coming home late, there were fights. Mom and Dad both went to college, Dad to own a private business and Mom to be a nurse. Some fights were big, but somehow came to the conclusion that having another baby would help the fighting. That's when Prim was born. The fighting did resolve some once Prim was born, but not near long enough.

"Same, all this fighting gets annoying," I reply.

I take Madge's advice and eat a peanut butter sandwich and head upstairs to my room. My room is pretty basic, painted a light green with cherry color bed set, vanity and dressers. I have several pictures of Madge and I scattered across my wall, and of course, right by my closet, my life size cut out of Peeta Mellark. Peeta Mellark is my age, 15, he is the hottest actors in Hollywood right now. Blonde hair and sapphire blue eyes make him almost every girl's dream. I would almost do anything to just have a chance to take a fan picture with him.

I throw my school back pack onto my bed and look down at my phone and discover Madge just sent me a picture message. _'This shouldn't be too hard,' _the message read. Along with the picture of our daily calorie limit. I agree, this shouldn't be impossible, it's pretty much 1000-1200 calories a day, with occasional fasting involved. It doesn't seem too, too bad.

I don't text her back, instead I decide to start on tonight's homework.

* * *

We've been on summer break for a while now, I decided to join the cross country team to help keep me occupied in the summer when we do the summer runs and would be a good way to meet the new freshman on the team. I wish I was as strong as Madge is, she's lost nearly eleven pounds from this diet and looks amazing. I haven't been following as strictly as she has because the summer runs always curve my appetite, but I have managed to drop six pounds and tone up my body some.

All along I thought it would be Mom to move first for the divorce, but ultimately, it was Dad who filed for the divorce. It was no surprise really when they both sat Prim and I down for a 'family meeting', something we haven't had in years. Their divorce is still being finalized by the court, but Dad has officially moved out, Dad let Mom keep all the furniture because he wanted to start 'fresh', Prim decided she wanted to go live with Dad for a while. I decided to stay with Mom, I think she would have been heart broken if both of her children left her. Dad only lives about thirty minutes away, but if I moved in with him I would have to change schools and I wouldn't be able to see Madge that often anymore.

I've already decided once this diet is over with, (which it is in seven days) I'm cutting back to seven hundred calories. I haven't lost that much weight, but during the summer runs for cross country, the most recent ones are easier than ever. It isn't because I am in better shape, I think it's because I'm carrying less weight. In thoroughbred horse racing, the riders must weigh no more than 123-129 pounds, sometimes even more and sometimes even less but it depends on the race, the riders must weigh this little because the less weight they have to carry is the better for their health. So why wouldn't it be the same for us humans? The less weight we carry, the better our times and the better it is for our health. Our cross country coach hasn't timed our five mile time yet, but I know my personal records are better than ever. Even some people on the team are noticing my faster times and have even complimented me on my improvement.

To celebrate the soon ending of our diet, Madge suggested that we celebrate by going out to lunch somewhere after my morning run for cross country. Although I know that this will backfire, all the extra calories where ever we go will have an abundance of them. I'll somehow have to burn them off tonight while Mom is in bed.

"Where will we go?" I ask Madge who is busy in the driver's seat adjusting her sunglasses and fixing her lipstick in the mirror.

"There's this new cafe place up the road that Gale and I tried the other night. It's cheap and has an abundance of any kind of food you really could ever imagine."

I mutually agree with Madge, if Madge ate there, then it must be a really healthy place or at least a place low in calories.

The cafe was only about a ten minute drive. Walking in, the fresh scent of bread takes over the air. The pastries fill your nose with nothing but pleasant smells. All the cashiers have the same wide smile plastered on their faces. All the customers seem to be in a really happy mood as well.

"Katniss," Madge nudges me with her elbow. I break out of my daze and stare cluelessly at her.

"What?"

"What do you want to eat?"

"Oh um," I look at the me.

Looking at the menu, where every item listed has it's calories posted next to the price, I'm caught up at looking at the calories. Almost anything I eat will automatically be over my calorie limit, Madge should know this too. But she isn't freaking out, so why should I?

But instead of a cheeseburger with extra mayonnaise, cheese, lettuce and pickle I intended to order, ugh, that sounds amazing but instead, I say: "I'll just have soup."

I turn my head a little to the right, and that's when I see my dad, his familiar voice in the distance. I'm confused who he's with. Prim is next to him, but so is a woman? Dad catches my attention and nervously walks over towards Madge and Me. He walks as if he is ashamed of something, or there is something else to hide.

I don't have to look twice at that 'woman' he's taking out on a 'date'. A date. An actual date even though him and Mom literally just broke up.

"Dad, who is that?" I hiss at him. I stare at him in his gray eyes, identical to mine. He isn't sure what to say because we both know that this isn't a situation he was planning on being in.

"Well, this is Lauren," He waves at her. She has strawberry blonde hair and teeth as white as snow. She smiles and tries to hug me. I hug her back stiffly.

"She's your girlfriend, isn't she?" I question. He knows I'm on to his case. He knows that I know.

I don't give him time to reply before I drag Madge away with me to a table as far away as from them. I'm not stupid. Lauren, is beautiful, she's skinny, she's fit. Practically the polar opposite of mom.

He left mom because of her weight. That is when it hits me. That isn't the only reason, well at least I pray to God that isn't the only reason he left her. Especially when Mom and Dad's fighting started to pick up, that is when my mom started to gain weight noticeably. She found comfort in all of the wrong things. There must have been something going between Dad and his new girlfriend even before the divorce. No matter how good of chemistry a couple has, there is no way they could have hit up that fast with that deep of chemistry. It's next to impossible.

And not only do I feel betrayed from this little stunt of Dad, but my heart goes out to mom.

**September (two months** **l****ater)**

The ringing of my phone goes off early, earlier than my alarm for school. It's five thirty a.m. I stare at the photoset Madge just sent me in the early hours this morning, her text message. The girl in these pictures are absolutely beautiful, she is so skinny. Ghostly skinny. You can count almost every single rib in her rib cage. In another one of the pictures, the girl is bending down and you can count her vertebrates, every single one. This photo is flawless. This girl is flawless. Why can't _I _be flawless? I've tried so hard and yet, I'll never look like that..._  
_

I look down at the message that was sent along with the picture, '_here's your little thinspiration for today ;)'_

I shake off the image I just saw on my phone screen. I can't get that picture out of my head. That girl didn't even look human, but in some odd form, she looked beautiful...and skinny, she looks like they type of beautiful I want to be. I scroll through my thinspiration and diet tips I have saved on my phone and send a picture back to her of a girl with a wide thigh gap.

Normally, I don't but any makeup on, but recently I started to make sure to add a little bit of foundation on my cheeks knowing how red they sometimes get and a little bit of mascara to bring out my dark grey eyes. I dig through my closet and find a UNC sweatshirt and yoga pants. This outfit won't make me look attractive, but at least I'll be comfortable for the day.

I skip breakfast, ignoring the fact the last piece of food I had was yesterday at breakfast time...it's Friday now. Even though my stomach is growling for what seems like non stop. I normally don't fast like this, it only makes me miserable but I was dumb and over ate most of my weekly calories when I was at a team dinner for track on Sunday night, which I mostly regret because you only taste the food for a few seconds but yet the calories will stick on you like glue. But I knew if I didn't eat at team dinner, Annie would be on my case again and start to talk with Coach Faith talking to my mom once again on what I am eating and I really don't want to go through that talk with all of them again.

I don't want to be like my mom. I refuse, no matter what sacrifices I have to make. I don't want to be my Mom where my husband leaves me for being too fat. But I guess my parents never loved each other from the start. I mean I was conceived the night of their Senior Prom. My dad didn't have a condom with him and my mom didn't think anything could happen, plus they both were drunk, so they really weren't thinking, but something obviously did happen, I was born nine months later. At first, my parents tried to make it work, more for my sake than theirs. It worked at first, they even decided to have another baby three years after me, my little sister Prim to help resolve the fighting. But in May of freshman year, three days before my birthday, they announced that they were getting a divorce. My mom had started to gain weight through their years of marriage, nothing major but once the fights started to escalate more frequently from the fights and just not getting along, she was gaining weight rapidly. Only two weeks after their divorce was finalized by the judge and courts, I saw my dad on a date with another girl: a girl who is fit and healthy, the total opposite of Mom. That's when I started to struggle with my weight, and of course Madge was no help to me either pushing me to diet with her. I was an average weight for a five foot seven, fourteen year old girl. I vowed to never let myself go like my mom did, to the point where my own husband would leave me. I made sure to start restricting calories and I even joined the Cross Country and Track team.

Once my mom tries to diet and to lose weight, but each one fails. And each one she fails she becomes disappointed in herself, causing her to seek out her 'comfort food'. She stays zoned out a lot because of the immense pressure on her shoulders now and started to work more and more night shifts at the hospital to earn more money, the night shifts pay better.

The bus ride to school is as quiet and minimal noise is made. I sit in the very front too, right behind the bus driver. No student ever asks if they can sit next to me. I normally just listen to everyone's conversations which are normally about other girls or boys. This is where I find out a lot of gossip about a lot the popular people.

I study almost every girl and their body shape. Some are so skinny and eat whatever they want but never exercise. Soon they'll be fat and overweight while I'll be beautiful and skinny.

When I get to school, the hallways are overcrowded. People are bunched up and some groups of friends are even talking in the very center causing a massive traffic jam. I finally make it to my locker where I start to exchange my binders that I took home for some I'll need for my morning classes.

"Did you weigh yourself this morning?" Madge asks, appearing almost out of no where. Even though my parents play a major role for my determination to lose weight, but Madge is also a big reason too. She asked me right before summer had started if I wanted to diet with her so she can get the lead part of a dance recital in spring. Since I am her friend, I couldn't tell her 'no', a true friend wouldn't do that. Whenever I felt like I needed something to eat, she'll keep me distracted and it's also reversible too, we can do this...together. We became 'ana buddies', to help support one another, we even joined a pro ana website to track our progress and to help support others who aren't as fortunate to have an ana buddy.

"I did," I say partially excited because I've lost three pounds since last week. The more weight I lose, the happier I become with myself. The more I can accept myself and look in the mirror. Hopefully once I am down to my goal weight I'll be happy of myself, be proud of myself.

"And what did it read?" She asks excitedly back, she must have told I had done good because of my voice tone. Madge has bright blue eyes that shine, her hair has thinned out a little from summer but she still looks stunning. Her boyfriend, Gale, must be very, very proud to have her. And especially with her skinny, _how could he not be proud of her?_

"I'm 126.7, the weight has been slicing off it seems like,"

Madge offers a weak smile, she's probably a little disappointed I haven't lost as much weight as she probably wanted me too. I don't have the heart to tell her that on Wednesday I cracked and ate a cupcake in English class and for my punishment I can't eat anything until late tonight. She slides her purple Jansport backpack off her back and digs around before pulling out some bagged food.

"Take these," Madge pushes some celery sticks in my hands, I look at her in confusion. Her number one rule is to never eat anything without knowing the exact amount of calories in it. She must have noticed my confused face because she goes on to explain, "Don't worry, they burn calories. It takes more calories to digest them than it does eating them," We both laughed and I thank her for this amazing snack. These don't count as food, right? Or at least as calories.

I'll probably eat them after school, before Cross Country practice this afternoon, but I need to eat them in front of some of my teammates so they can't say 'I never eat anything,'. That is one of mine and Madge's top rules: Never eat alone, always make sure you're around friends or family so they can never say 'I never see you eat anymore'.

"Oh by the way," She points to my Peeta Mellark photo in my locker, "He's my husband, not yours," She laughs and walks away. Peeta Mellark is one of the cutest and most talented actors in Hollywood right now, he's even my age too, just a few months older than me.

"No," I tease back, "I loved him first."

Lunch is probably the hardest part of the day, not only do I smell the delicious food scents that are really tempting, but I mainly sit with some of my Cross Country teammates, and me not eating lunch raises their suspicions and that leads to questions. It's not secret that Madge will do anything it takes for her to lose weight, especially with how determined she is to win over the dance recital lead role. And me hanging out with Madge, it only makes people raise their eyebrows at me why I'm not eating.

I sometimes nibble on a few pieces of lettuce I packed for lunch or a piece of fruit so at least I'll be getting low calories.

"Is that all you're eating?" One of my teammates Annie asks. Annie is the kind of girl that every high school girl envies: a 4.5 GPA, straight A student, almost all A.P. classes, pretty, and dating the football team star Finnick Odair. Annie has the perfect body, but she does eat her fair share of calories, so once she stops running once she's out of high school or college, she will start packing on the pounds, something I vow to myself I'll never do. And then she will be wishing she was like me, who was carefully monitoring her calories.

"We had a food day in fourth period, so I'm not that hungry," I make up, it's not a total lie though, we did have a food day, I just chose not to eat anything.

Annie, who still does not seem satisfied with my response, continues on eating her calorie filled sandwich. Her bread isn't even whole grain and she's eating mayonnaise instead of mustard, ham instead of turkey. All kinds of food flaws in her lunch.

Changing for Cross Country after school can sometimes be a challenge, instead of changing in the locker room with the other girls, I change in a bathroom stall so no one can see my torso, which I'm still self conscious of. I always run with a shirt on, even though all the other girls run in a sports bra.

The looks my coach gives me isn't the most satisfying one, she must know I've lost weight. The disapproving look I get makes me feel self conscious, but once I beat my personal record of three miles, she replaces the unsatisfying look to a really surprised at how much I have improved my speed and stamina. If I'm getting better this fast, why isn't everyone limiting their calories. She even compliments me saying that I might make it as far as states this year.

"Katniss, can I talk to you?" Our Coach Faith asks me. I nod my head at her. I follow her to the fence. I try to read her facial expressions, if she is mad or sad, estatic or disappointed in me. "Someone told me you weren't eating enough food," She confronts me.

I'm taken aback from shock. I am eating enough. I haven't passed out yet. If I did pass out, that would be a clear sign that I wasn't eating enough. And even if I wasn't eating enough, that's a really bitchy thing to do is to worry about what someone else is eating. Who cares if all I am eating is fruit or lettuce. I'm not worried about what Coach Faith is eating or what Annie is eating (besides today at lunch when she's eating calorie filled food). So why should someone be worried what I'm eating?

"I was your age to once," Coach adds one, "The less you weigh the faster you run. I get it. But beating your personal record and qualifying for states isn't worth the risk of your health. Once you have been hospitalized for your weight, you won't be trusted on your own for a long time. You won't be trusted alone in the bathroom, you're not trusted alone at home or in your bedroom with your door shut, you have to have an adult monitor your food intake, an adult watches you eat your food to make sure you're not just spreading it around or spitting it into a napkin. My sister went down that road and I know it isn't a fun one."

I stay staring at Coach Faith, making eye contact with her, "Don't worry, I'm fine," I assure her. Fine. Even though my stomach rumbles, it's a good sign. It shows I'm burning calories. The more calories I burn, the skinnier I will become. I only hope Coach Faith didn't hear my stomach rumble.

Although Coach Faith doesn't seem entirely convinced by me, but she lets me resume our practice.

After practice, in the girls locker room, Annie keeps eyeing me. It's no secret to me that she told Coach Faith about me not eating enough and how she's probably worried about my health and everything else. She's trying to be the good girl that everyone thinks she is but I can see right through her. She should be minding her own business. I catch a ride home from Delly today, she's another runner on the Cross Country Team. Delly only comments on my weight once saying how good I look, how toned my body seems to be. See. Losing weight is a good thing. I don't know why Annie needs to act all concerned about me for. I am clearly fine.

Delly drops me off in my driveway and I thank her for the ride home, "Mom I'm home," I shout out and hope she responds. When she doesn't, I wander into the kitchen.

_Walk out of the kitchen, you don't want to eat anything, _says the voice inside of my head. I sometimes wished that person would shut up, but sometimes the voice is really helpful in keeping me from eating something I don't want. I don't think that the voice in my head is my conscious, but whoever it is, I really need to thank her sometime.

I head upstairs to my bedroom and throw my backpack on my bead. I practically sprint to the bathroom to where the scale is kept, underneath the sink. I'm not sure why we still have this scale, I don't think that Mom ever uses it, but it's like fate that it's still here because this way I can keep track of every little bit of weight gain I may have. Luckily, no weight was gained today, but no weight was lost. I'm not sure if this was a successful or failure of a day.

**Yeah, the ending to the prologue/first chapter whatever you want to call it wasn't very good. I'm so sorry if this is triggering for ED, it will continue to become more triggering in later chapters. Please review and give feedback, I would love to hear y'alls opinions (: **


	2. Chapter 2

**So this chapter is obviously shorter, but the next chapter should be a lot longer, I just didn't want to many events take place in one chapter. Once again, this may be a trigger warning for some readers so I do advise readers who have struggled with an eating disorder or trying to recover from one not to read this fanfiction. **

"I'm not sure," I say into the phone, tears pricking in the corner of my eyes, I struggle to keep them in and not let them fall down my cheeks, I can feel the pain in my stomach once again return. It's been lingering there for a few hours now. In fact, it is what woke me up in the early hours of this morning. I almost woke up screaming, the only thing that stopped is the pain is something I'm used to, but something I haven't adjusted to yet. Madge often calls them 'hunger pains'. They're caused by not eating for long periods of times. And that would make sense because I haven't eaten in a while because of a newer diet Madge found online. As soon as I got the unbearable pains this morning, I called Madge, who was quick to answer her phone.

"You can do it," She cuts me off before I can finish my sentence, "I know you can. It's always hard to start off, but it gets easier, especially when your body adjusts, it will become a piece of cake,"

"Madge, I have a cross country meet this morning. I literally feel like I'm going to pass out." I complain, but it isn't an exaggeration at all. Just sitting up in bed is enough to make my vision blurry and my head light.

She sighs into the phone, not hiding the fact that she is disappointed in me. I don't blame her, Im disappointed in me too, for giving in so quickly.

"If you really need something, eat a few spoonfuls of granola or a cup of strawberries. But nothing too much, you want to stay in the negative calorie range. It's the only way to lose weight." Madge reminds me once again and hangs up because she says she is getting the hunger pains too and the best way to get rid of them is to sleep them away, 'Negative calorie range' has become a normal thing for her to say to me now a days.

It's only thirty minutes later and I am still wide awake waiting for my alarm to go off, I haven't gotten out of bed to retrieve any type of food. But Madge is right, I don't need any food to keep me going today, all I need is my self motivation. A little thinspiration ought to do the trick, it almost always does.

I take my laptop, which I keep safely tucked underneath my bed and unplug it from it's charger. I wait for the computer to turn on, I pull my knees up to my chest to try to help surpress the next round of hunger pains that soon take full force. This is so called diet I agreed to try out with Madge has turned into something else, a lifestyle almost.

Instead of googling something to help surpres the hunger pains (I've already done that multiple times) I log into my pro ana account and look for some motivation to keep going. The pictures of what I could look like in the future if I stick to this impossibly difficult diet look amazing, a size 1 in a dress, a double 00 in jeans, an extra small in a shirt size, everything seems amazing.

The loud ringing noise suddenly takes my attention away from the website and to my phone, my alarm clock is going off, time to get up for the cross country meet. I swing my legs out of bed and up onto the floor. As I walk to my closet and retrieve my uniform, I can just feel my legs tremble below me, shaking as if they're about to collapse beneath me and not allow me to get back up.

Annie picks me up from my house promptly at six a.m. for our cross country meet, not much is said between us, the recent tension between my eating habits and the influence Madge has on me hasn't left us much to talk about without us finding something to fight about. The only reason she probably even picks me up for the cross country meets is because I carry the team on terms of best times and overall placement of the meet.

"Coach said your times were getting even stronger each practice," Annie awkwardly comments breaking the silence that has been lingering between us.

I keep looking down, playing with a lose string on her car's seats. I take a few moments to respond to her comment, "She says if I keep improving like that I should have no problem qualifying for states and maybe even nationals,"

Like me, Annie is silent for a few moments, "But your health is more important than wining at states," she whispers.

She must not think that I heart that comment, but I did. And I can't just let her get away with saying that without me defending myself in some way.

"And my health is just fine. I don't need someone to tell me about my health and what I should be doing," I snap at her.

The rest of the ride to the meet is quiet.

The cross country meet this weekend is at a farm right outside of town. The difference between track and cross country is not only the distances but sometimes also the surface the sport is run on. For most of the cross country meets my school participates in, is took place on grass, sand, and dirt, different types of terrain to test the endurance. This meet has a mix between grass and dirt with a mixture of a few small ponds. It is already a scorching hot day, the high temperature is just under one hundred degrees, and it doesn't help that I didn't eat breakfast. I'm already sweating just from taking a simple warm up lap and stretching.

The boys division always starts well before the girl's does, but before the girls division starts, Coach gathers us around in a team circle, giving us the normal 'pep' talk. "Make sure to drink an abundance of water and gatorade while we wait for the boys to finish up their run," She pauses to take a look at her watch, "I think we have around ten more minutes before they'll call for y'all," She looks around the circle making eye contact with select individuals. "Good luck to all of you,"

"Good luck, Katniss," A girl named Isabelle said.

I smile, "Thanks, you too."

The next ten minutes go by agonizingly slow. A part of me wants to break the pact and eat something, anything, I'll even eat the grass I'm standing on now, but if I do that, I'll be letting down Madge, but then again, she wouldn't know if I had a little bite to eat before the race, after all, I would burn it off right away practically, especially if it was something small.

I don't have anymore time to think that through before the girl runners are called to the start. I cry internally for how bad my stomach is begging for at least a little something to eat, but there isn't time I have to head towards the starting point now.

Annie must know that something isn't right because even though we have been head butting a lot recently, she still gives me a sympathetic glance. I can already feel the heat rushing to my head, making me feel slightly nauseous and light headed. But I can do it, I can pull through.

It takes almost a total of five minutes at the starting line to get everything situated. During that time I've managed to find the small piece of shade around here, it isn't much but at least it's something and takes away the nauseous feeling. I look over and find Annie who is only a few people down from me, she whispers 'good luck' or that is what I make out of her lips moving.

When the gun shot goes off signaling the start of the run, I stall for a few seconds delaying my start and missing the break. I'm already behind a bunch of other girls and that is not what I'm used to at all, I'm used to controlling the pace of the race mostly from a top, not from behind. If I want to qualify for states, I have to push myself. From what little energy I have, I manage to dig deep inside and push myself to one of the front running spot and keep the pace steady for myself but yet for everyone else.

I can already feel my heart racing two miles into the three mile race. I already feel like I am about to faint, I heard of more runners follow me so stopping now would not be an option, I can't lose. If I lose, it will make state qualifying more difficult than it already is.

I look down and close my eyes, letting my body take over and push itself to it's very maximum. I can feel girls are breathing down my neck, I dig deeper. I want this, I want to qualify for states, I want Madge to be proud of me for losing all of this weight with her, I dig deeper, I can hear my coach's voice in the near distance cheering me on, I dig deeper, I see the finish line several strides out in front of me, I dig deeper. I feel my legs start to fall out from underneath me, starting to collapse, I can feel myself fight to keep my eyes open...I can't keep fighting anymore.

* * *

I don't realize what happened until I see Annie and Coach over me, making sure I have an ice pack on my head and having shade over top of me. I already hear a random voice in the background talking to 911 on the phone, answering the stupid questions they ask as protocol.

"Do you remember what happened?" Coach asks as she realizes I'm conscious.

I don't. All I remember is one moment seeing the finish line and maybe even crossing it before feeling the sensation that my legs are slipping out from underneath me and fighting to keep my eyes open, but then losing that battle.

"No, I don't really remember anything," I reply, "Did I win?"

"Yeah, you even beat your previous personal record," she replies. The satisfaction I get from that is beyond amazing, it's rewarding, that all this hard work from practices and to watching what I eat is paying off. "We also tried to contact your mom or dad, but neither of them picked up their phone," Coach sounds a little disappointed by that, but she must know that my parents never come to my meets or any extracurricular thing I do in general, I'm not sure why though Coach seems a little disappointed in my parents for that. Mom has work, she's working more ever since the divorce and Dad probably has better things to do than to pick up or even pay attention to his cell phone, "We also called 911 and they should be here any minute to take you to the hospital."

"Why?" I ask in confusion, my eyebrows furrowing now, "I'm awake and fine now,"

"Do you have any idea why you fainted?" Coach asks.

_Probably because I haven't eaten a full meal in three days and anything at all since Thursday night. But all I answer is "_No,"

It doesn't take long before the paramedics arrive, they carry me off on the stretcher. Coach comes along in the ambulance ride with me. At the beginning of the cross country season, my parents had to sign papers that if I ever got hurt during an event that required medical attention and they were not able to be with me, my coaches have the rights to make all of my medical decisions until my parents are on sight, and by the looks of how things are going now, Coach Faith will be having all my medical calls right now.

As soon as I am in the back of the ambulance, I'm automatically hooked up to an IV fluid, right now the paramedics think the reason why I might have passed out is because I was just dehydrated, I know that isn't the reason, but they don't, so I'm going to keep it that way.

The ride to the hospital is only a fifteen minute drive, and no matter how many times i insist I'm fine and can go back to the meet and then back home, it makes them more suspicious?

Coach Faith is by my bedside when a doctor knocks on the door, "I'd like to speak to Ms. Everdeen alone," The middle aged doctor chirps, she has shoulder length curly hair, they're almost like ringlets, she's pretty short, hovering no taller than 5'5. Coach Faith respectively gets up out of her seat and leaves the room.

"Now Katniss, I we did take blood and ran a few tests on it, as well as take your heart rate and blood pressure. In the ambulance, the paramedics suspected dehydration, which was a reasonable thought given on how hot it is and how easily it can be to become dehydrated. But analyzing the blood pressure and the heart rate says on how low it is, and by what the information your blood tests came back suggests you haven't eaten a good meal in a good two to three days,"

She's caught me, I'm dead. My parents are going to find out what has been going on and I'm dead. They'll make me start to eat again and then I'll let Madge down, and she'll be disappointed in me.

"That is ridiculous," I snap back in defense.

"Katniss," the doctor says gently, "We see this all of the time, in runners, in dancers, in gymnasts. We don't want to see another victim to this disease,"

I interrupt her before she can continue. "What are you talking about? What disease? I don't have a disease, or anything. I just fainted because I was dehydrated. Happens to all of us at least once," Now I'm sounding just plain rude.

"Katniss, your weight has dropped a lot, we've talked to your coach about her noticing any weight differences in you and she said you've become noticeably skinnier and amazing improvement in times in such a short amount of time. Also, a teammate came forward saying that you barely eat as it is." The doctor grabs my hand, the one without the IV needle in it, "Katniss, have you ever heard of anorexia and what it is?" She asks.

I scowl, "I'm not anorexic," I grumble between my teeth. "I'm just trying to tone my body," The doctor sighs knowing that I'm going to be stubborn, If I was anorexic I would know it.

* * *

In order for me to be released, my legal guardian had to sign me out of the hospital and luckily it wasn't more than an hour before my mom arrived taking me home. As soon as we were in the car I ask her if Madge could come over to spend the night, I really needed her advice. I'm stuck in the middle right now and I just need the reassurance that I'm doing the right thing.

Madge was in my driveway before we were even home.

"I heard what happen on twitter at the meet, I'm glad you're okay," She says offering me a smile.

"Yeah, stupid doctors won't leave me alone,"

"Don't worry, I've found this new diet tip and hunger surrpressing one that you won't have to worry about fainting from not enough food,"

I smile, "Well I can't wait to hear it," I say back, "But let's discuss this upstairs."

**Please review guys, I would really like to know your opinions on this story so far. It would really mean a lot too :) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's the next chapter! I can't believe Mockingjay part 1 is just around the corner, it seems like yesterday that the teaser trailer for The Hunger Games was released! Anyway, enjoy and please please review! **

**And as always, I don't own THG or this idea.**

**Tomorrow is the World Premiere of Mockingjay part 1 and only 11 days, 2 hours and 28 minutes before the release. (and for you Divergent lovers, 130 days, 14 hours and 29 minutes before it's release)**

**Once again, this chapter may be triggering for some who have endured self harm or an eating disorder. I do not promote any of these things****and I urge you to get help if needed.**

After my the first time I passed out, and my first hospital trip, Mom started to pay more attention to what I have been doing. She's been on my case a lot more too, about what I've been eating, or when was the last time I ate to the point where it is just getting down right annoying. She's threatened me with taking cross country away or cutting off complete contact from Madge since she's starting to hate Madge about now. But after each threat, I haven't been taking her more seriously. And she has done nothing to back up her threats either. It's kind of funny to think she thinks she has influenced my thoughts or actions in any way.

A pre-play for Madge's dance recital is coming up soon, the tryouts are next week, I think, or sometime soon anyway. And all that pressure for her to look skinny and perfect, she's also putting on me, which is both good and bad. Lately, she's been even more strict on watching what I have been eating to make sure I follow her rules and not putting on any extra calories, and we're putting on the same calories meaning we're losing the same amount of weight. She's even joined the cross country team on our afternoon runs to trim down on any extra calories she might have consumed during the day. It's nice to have her run with me, so we can talk about other things as well.

She's even brought up how there are rumors speculating on movie websites that Peeta Mellark has been casted in yet another movie and this one is supposed to be one of his darkest roles yet. About one as a patient in a psych ward, one recovering from depression caused by a very traumatic event. But Madge told me that these are just rumors and I cant take them seriously yet until it has been confirmed by a more reliable source.

Annie is also still on my case, I've made sure to eat a sandwich at lunch, event though it is more calories I have to burn later on, it is a whole lot better than always getting Annie's disapproving look in my direction. Besides, the sandwich is a only one piece of whole grain bread and some turkey to go between it. Coach is also on my case more than normal, sometimes she'll call me in her office and I'll have to eat lunch in there with her, which is incredibly hard to eat as little as possible but also without being very suspicious. And to make sure I haven't been lying on what I have eaten, she'll also ask Annie in front of me on what I ate at lunch because she knows that Annie would never lie and risk ruining her crystal clear reputation.

"She's such a bitch," Madge says while practicing yoga together in the park. It's a sunny day, but with the recent cold front that came in last night, it made temperatures completely plummet almost out of no where. The colors of the leaves are also changing with this cold front as well, more and more of the leaves are dying leaving the fallish feel in the air.

"I agree. And I hate how Coach doesn't trust me on what I say on what I have and haven't ate for the day," I stretch my left leg almost completely out in front of me, I'm trying to complete the Warrior Pose. Madge says that yoga is good for your muscles and is a fat burning machine, well at least according to her dance coach it is. "I mean I wouldn't trust myself on what I have eaten because I have lied about it, but doesn't mean she needs to be so obsessed with me."

"Keep your back leg straight," Made pipes in, "But yeah I bet that's annoying. That is the best part about dance is that no one is concerned about your health or how much you've eaten that day or the day before. It's almost like they expect you to be a stick thin person."

It is true though on how dancers are expected to be stick thin. Madge has lost so much weight in these past few months and she sticks to the diet plan a lot more truthfully than I do. It must be nice not to have anyone always breathing down your throat and pressing you for answers.

"But on a better note, have you checked out Peeta Mellark's new movie role? It was announced a few hours ago that he got it despite what some critics saying that he's too young," Madge mentioned.

"No, I haven't yet," I reply, focusing on perfecting my downward dog position, "What's it on this time?" I ask in a questioning tone. Not only is the young actor Peeta known for his abundance of movie roles, but also his ability to play such diverse characters at this young.

"This time there's something to do with a mental hospital or a rehabilitation center, I'm not sure what his role will be, but whatever it is, I'm sure he'll kill it." Madge says before looking at her watch, checking the time. "Oh shit," She says in a hurried tone, suddenly picking up her yoga matt and cell phone. "I have a dance class in a half hour! Sorry for the quick good bye, I'll see you later," She says before giving me a hug goodbye and rushing to the parking lot where her car is parked, leaving me by myself.

I continue out the yoga routine without Madge.

* * *

That night while scrolling through my Tumblr dashboard, looking at thinspiration, trying to ignore my stomach rumble I feel my phone vibrate, and to my surprise, it's actually a text from Annie:

_Hey, what have you eaten today?_

She waits a few more seconds before also sending this:

_Not my choice to text you, I know how to don't like to discus this topic of food. I really only did what Coach wanted me to do, I just need an answer so I can respond to Coach._

I debate on reading the message and not respond, but that would look too fishy when I know for a fact that I haven't really had anything to eat today. But the nicer side of me wants me to respond, so I do:

_Madge and I went to Olive Garden after our yoga session in the park today around noon._

I put my phone back down until I feel the vibration from my phone again. But instead of the text from Annie, like I expected, it's actually from Madge.

_There's a new diet tip I found online today. I'll show you at school tomorrow. Stay skinny. Oh and new information on Peeta's new movie is available online, just fyi. _

As much as I love Madge, I have to admit that her diets sometimes become outrageously impossible to follow. Especially the ones that have strict diet rules. Sometimes, I feel as if I just want to break the diet rules, even if it was just for a day. I cannot remember the last time I have eaten some food without counting the calories or wondering and freaking out over the calories I had just consumed. I wish I had that freedom...

But I don't. I don't because the nicer side of me wanted to help Madge out, I wanted her to like me and keep her as a friend so I made the biggest mistake was agreeing to this dumb diet that has now taken ahold of my life.

A part of me is kind of curious on what his role is, but a round of tired runs through my body and I have to give in to it this time. So like any other school night, I turn off my light and head to bed at 9.

At 6, when my alarm goes off for the first time, I hit snooze, I can't get out of bed. Eight minutes later when the alarm once again repeats itself, I cannot bring myself to get out of bed. I stare at my wall, still dark from the unrisen sun to light up my room. A million thoughts rush into my mind, especially the ones that cry for me to get out of bed, but I just can't seem to do it.

It takes another thirty minutes for my mom to come get me up out of bed, we haven't spoken much these past few weeks, especially with the divorce between her and my dad, the full custody battle for Prim and me.

"You need to get out of bed, Annie will be here to pick you up any minute now," My mom whispers, no longer in a strict tone, but actually a soothing, comforting one. One I haven't heard in a long time...

I know she's right. Me getting out of bed. My mind says the same thing, to get out of bed, but I can't bring myself to it. Mom leaves only after several seconds, I guess that's the only effort she wanted to make. I'm not even sure why's she is up so early, she's been taking on extra hours at the hospital to earn extra money now that she doesn't have my Dad's income to help pay the bills. She works four to five twelve hour shifts weekly, sometimes more and sometimes less, but that is what she has normally been working. I see the headlights flash through my window and light up one side of my wall, that light up my room. I know that's Annie, she's on time, like always. Like that perfect child she was raised to be. With that perfect childhood, with her being a planned baby, her parents emotionally and financially prepared to have a child. The complete opposite of mine. Maybe that's why she's turned out so perfect and I myself have turned out like shit.

I hear mumbling outside my window. I know it's my mom's voice talking to Annie's voice, and several seconds later, the headlights disappear once again making my room dark. Mom must have told Annie that I was still in bed and I would just be late today, but I know that isn't true because I fall back asleep with no one disturbing me.

I wake up again around 10 a.m., I know I'm home alone. I house is dead quiet, Mom must have gone in early again for the extra money she is determined to earn herself and not from child support from my father.

As if a long wave of sleepiness is creeping over me, I manage to jump out of bed at the thought I haven't weighed myself in two full days. I've been sticking to the old diet, not the new one that Madge wanted to tell me about today, but without the scale, I have zero to no motivation to keep losing weight.

Mom removed the scale from my bathroom after the first time I was admitted to the hospital, she got me using the one I had several times and probably made the connection. But she failed to realize that I knew she had one in her bathroom. So I make my way across the upstairs hallway into the master suite that only my mother occupies and into the master bathroom. Under the cabinet, under several layers of towels lies thing that my diet and life revolves around, the scale.

I lay it out flatly on the tile floors and wait for it to turn itself on before I step onto it. I hold my breath until I hear the beeping noise that the final weight has been calculated. It takes several moments for me to gather up my courage and look down. And when I do, it makes me want to cry. Just drop to the floor and start crying. The stupid fluids the hospital gave me must have made me gain weight. If it wasn't that then something did and I just want to cut off every stupid piece of fat off my body. Every. Freaking. Peace. Of. Fat. Until my BMI is zero percent, and my ribs protrude and every vertebrae of my back sticks out without me bending over.

I see a bright shinny thing catch the corner of my eye. I haven't looked at one of these things in months. I reach over to grab it, the way it fits in my hand feels like it is just meant to be, meant to happen right now.

I take the razor and gently slide it across my wrist. Although I didn't press down very hard, I still felt the blood trickle out from my veins. The stinging came soon after, although the slight pain from this, brought more relief. I once again press down on my wrist with the razor, but this time slightly harder and I watch in awe as I see the crimson color of my blood start to race itself out of my newly sliced skin. After a few more cuts here and there, I put the razor down. Numb from what just happened. I feel numb. I don't feel the pain I should from this cut. The one on my right forearm probably needs stitches. It doesn't take long to stop the cuts from bleeding on my right forearm, they're kind of just scrapes. The right forearm one is really deep, deeper than a lot of those suicidal blog people posts on Tumblr of their cuts. I don't know what drives me to do so, but I call 911.

"911 what is your emergency?" The operator asks into the phone, displaying the same boring tone as she probably does to all of her callers.

"I think I might need stitches."

"What for Honey?" Once again, her level of concern isn't high. She probably thinks that I'm some random person calling who just has a small cut that won't stop bleeding but if pressure was applied the bleeding would stop in seconds.

"I cut myself too deep," I mumble into the phone, a little embarrassed on how she might react to this.

"Honey, you can't mumble into the phone like that, I can't hear you when you do so."

So this time, I say it louder, and more clearer, "I cut myself too deep this time."

There's a pause for a moment, like she isn't sure on what to say.

"Is this cut self inflicted or did you cut yourself when making food?" She asks with a little more concern in her voice than she was showing earlier.

"Self inflicted,"

"Okay, I assume you are going to need an ambulance, but do you need anything else? Like a policemen or fire truck?"

"No ma'am," I reply with my voice becoming softer sinking in more disappointment in myself.

"Okay, an ambulance just left the station. I'm going to assume you're home alone, so what I'm going to need you to do is grab a towel and start to apply pressure around the cut, not directly on it, but on your upper forearm,"

I do as I'm told, grabbing a snow white towel and watch my crimson colored blood stain it. I also look at the darker colored tiles and see how my blood dripped down off my forearm and onto the floor creating a blood bath almost.

"Okay, I've done that, but it won't stop gushing blood," I say panically back into the phone.

"Honey I'm sure it won't stop bleeding until you see medical experts, but in the meantime I need you to listen to me and stay on the phone until the paramedics arrive at your house,"

It feels like hours before the paramedics arrive, two of them came in the bathroom with a stretcher at hand preparing for the absolute worse. I'm sure when they got this call they weren't expecting a young girl who looks like hell.

Because it is protocol, it was required that I was taken out of the house and loaded onto the ambulance by stretcher. Even though one of them could have easily lifted the stretcher with me on it or just one of them carry me without the stretcher in general, both of them carried me outside and lifted me on the stretcher that had wheels and rolled me into the ambulance.

The ride to the hospital from my house can be a good 20-30 minutes depending on traffic and such. One of the paramedics takes my vitals and takes a look at my cut while the other one is there mainly for my moral support. There is another one who is driving, but he never came into my house. Along the sides of the ambulance are lined with different tools, ranging from needles of all types to morphine and Advil. They really are prepared for the worse, over prepared is better to say.

I'm asked by one of the paramedics the same kinds of questions the 911 dispatcher had to ask me, such as age and how this cut happened. And each time I mumbled the answer before being asked to speak up because they couldn't hear me.

I over hear the radio talk from the 911 dispatcher radio to any open units from ambulances and firetrucks to police cars. I wonder if my mom has been notified of this incident. Shit...my mom is working at the hospital right now. And she is not going to be a happy person when she sees my face in the emergency room especially when she learns why I'm in here too.

**Please review.**


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